


Cruddy Chronicles of Canned Cats

by orcenforpresident



Category: Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Gen, it's cats but they're drinks and separated by class
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 09:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17557598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orcenforpresident/pseuds/orcenforpresident
Summary: In a world where wine cats dominate and canned cats are forced to live in poverty, the future seems bleak for those not in power. So when a ragtag group of cats decide it's time for a change, they're given an opportunity to turn society's standards over completely. But is risking it all worth it in the end?





	Cruddy Chronicles of Canned Cats

**Author's Note:**

> "what if there were cats... but designed to look like drinks..." was the idea of making this so here we go ig

Pep always thought of society as a joke. Upper-class wine cats like Mayor Chardonnay always getting what they wanted when they wanted it. The only problem with that way of thinking was that Pep was part of the punchline. As a lower-classed canned cat, he was destined to live his life in the slums, a never-ending hellhole of disease and rotting corpses that nobody even bothered to bury. 

Well, he could think about his shitty life later. He had an important business opportunity to deal with.

Pep slicked back his dark brown hair and flicked his tail to ward off flies. He straightened his leather jacket, which was probably worth more than his entire existence. Of course, the right idea was to sell it off for food, but why do that when it just looks so cool? 

Pep continued walking and imagined all the blisters his paws were probably getting. The rough cobblestone at this side of the slums were slicked with dried blood. It was painful to admit it, but Pep had caused some of the blood spill here. Not one of his finest moments, but he did what he had to do. 

Anyone did what they had to do if it meant surviving.

\---

"You're late." 

A gruff ginger cat was leaning back against the wall of an abandoned warehouse. Pep could spot at least three other lackeys, but his main concern was the cat standing in front of him. Famous for his drug dealings, Fanta was not someone to mess with. Pep couldn't help but feel giddy. He was here. In person. Meeting with Fanta (plus three other random dudes, but mostly Fanta).

"I was busy." _Just play it cool, Pep. Play it cool._

Fanta grunted and twitched a shredded ear. "So do you have them?"

Pep rummaged around his jacket pockets and revealed a small brown pouch. Fanta's orange eyes sparkled, and he swiped the pouch away from Pep's paws. 

"And the payment?" 

"Yeah yeah, here." Fanta tossed some coins Pep's way, and the dark brown cat eagerly counted them. _Five, six, seven..._ He paused. "There was supposed to be thirty."

The ginger cat shrugged and turned away. "It's close enough."

"We had a deal." Pep growled, taking a step forward. Fanta turned to face him, his ragged ears pinned back in a snarl. 

"You got your payment." 

"Not the payment we agreed to!"

"Listen kid, you got paid. I got the drugs. Now scram before you make me angry."

"No! We had a deal!"

Fanta flicked his tail, and his lackeys immediately advanced on Pep, claws unsheathed. _Starting to regret this..._ Pep thought, backing up slowly.

Then one of them jumped, and the world went black.


End file.
